Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8YW8BG9SPCBAZY6Q0CP0J

The neon glow of the neon sign outside the *Sugar Rush Surprise Party* flickered like a drunk firefly. Molly adjusted her sunglasses—inside, she’d look like a normal partygoer, not the woman who’d just spent three hours rigging the place with her own brand of "safety features." Bill leaned against the fence, chewing on a stolen lollipop. "You sure about this?" he asked, wiping his mouth. "Kids scream. Parents scream. The cops scream. It’s a full-circle disaster." Molly tossed him a tiny velvet pouch. "Relax, genius. We’re not here to *steal from* kids. We’re here to *steal for* kids. Ever seen a kid’s allowance? It’s like stealing from a goldfish—except the goldfish has more dignity." Bill groaned. "You’re insane. Also, you just compared me to a goldfish." "Fair. But at least goldfish don’t complain about the *lack of a plan*." She pointed at the house. "That’s the cake table. That’s the piñata. And that’s—" She squinted. "Oh no. That’s *Santa’s sleigh*." Bill’s eyes widened. "You’re not suggesting—" "Of course I am. It’s a *sleigh*. It’s got wheels. It’s got *magic*." She grinned. "We hotwire it, drive it straight to the toy store, and come back with a truckload of *actual* presents. Then we sell them to the parents who *definitely* won’t ask questions." Bill stared. "You’re evil." Molly patted his arm. "No, darling. I’m *efficient*." She pulled out a tiny remote. "Now, let’s see if Santa’s sleigh still has its original battery."